Reflections
by Drea Jackman
Summary: Max spends some time thinking about Ben and the reflection she's forced to see in Alec.


TITLE: Reflections  
  
WRITTEN BY: Drea Jackman  
  
EMAIL: DreaJackman@hotmail.com  
  
WEBSITE: Of Dreams & Reality - http://DreaJackman.cjb.net/  
  
RATING: G  
  
SUMMARY: Max spends some time thinking about Ben and the reflection she's forced to see in Alec.  
  
DISCLAIMER: All Dark Angel characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and Dark Angel itself belongs to FOX...it's just not fair is it? *Sob*  
  
ARCHIVE: If I've said yes before I'll say it again, otherwise email me 'n' lemme know.  
  
FEEDBACK: Don't make me beg, please? ...D'OH!  
  
A/N: It's been ages since I managed to finish off a fic. There's still about 7 sitting here unfinished but I think my muse is well on it's way to recovery so wish me luck? It's been too long, so if this totally sucked please review and let me know. I'd hate to keep posting up crap when there's far better fic out there :) Be honest, I appreciate it. Thanks :)  
  
  
  
Reflections  
  
  
  
"Tell me about the good place."  
  
Max remembered the last few words she'd shared with Ben as Manticore soldiers converged on their position rapidly. How could brief seconds be enough to make up for a lifetime of loneliness and misguided actions? Yet somehow, looking down in to Ben's eyes as he lay in her arms had been long enough.  
  
She couldn't help but wonder just how genetic the cause really had been. Partially, it was a dumb question. Max knew perfectly well that Ben's killing hadn't been as a result of any genetic flaw. Alec had been whisked off to Psy-Ops for a complete Psychological Observation work-up for the entire duration of 6 months.  
  
Suddenly she shivered and thought of Ben's desperate pleas for her help.  
  
"Max please, you know what they'll do to me."  
  
Just what had they inflicted on Alec in Ben's stead? How badly had they torn him apart and broken him down to finally realise he wasn't Ben? Would it have been any different if, perhaps after the escape, he'd not had to face growing up alone?  
  
After the escape they were scattered in a world that would never really know them. If somehow, Max and Ben had managed to find each other, stay together since the night of the escape, Max keenly wanted to believe it could have been different. Growing up together, Max could imagine them both being very happy even that very day.  
  
Her slight daydream stole her away in the long moments that followed. Ben and her had always been together ever since the escape. They'd grown up facing the various aspects of the world, making sense of it all as they went. Maybe she grew up less cynical thanks to the presence of his unwavering faith, be it in the Blue Lady or her. Maybe her presence had brought appropriate focus to that faith, keeping it where it should stay and together both learning and helping each other to be people, man and woman, and not merely soldiers.  
  
Slowly, in the looming darkness Max could make out Ben's innocent features, untroubled in apparent slumber. The image lay before her like some grand, unwavering portrait come to life. His dark hair in disarray, lighter strands around the front cast in all directions, some up and outward, others pressed to the fair skin of his forehead. Her eyes trailed lower still, enjoying the comfort seeing Ben in peace brought her. It was nice to have some other image to hold onto.  
  
The dark flow of each eyebrow as individually their shapely curve betrayed contentment and peace. His eyes were covered, hooded by gentle eyelids that played origin to even darker lashes as they curved away to rest on more soft skin. From there, the given definition of prominent cheekbones swept gracefully into the strong curve of his defined jawline.  
  
The gentle spell of death was masked by the more pleasant sight of both nostrils, elegant in fixture and placement, flaring gently with the intake of every new breath. From just below that, the full curve of warm, pink lips took shape. Pursed closed, his lips betrayed neither pleasure or discontent in the slumber she observed him in. He merely was.  
  
Max's wavering presence hung heavily in the air and she became mezmerised by the man lying before her in such peace. So lost in fact, that time totally escaped her. By the time she decided to make a move, it was only because she'd become aware of the fact that daylight had already begun to peek through the far window of the bedroom.  
  
Quickly remembering herself, Max shifted silently as always, and turned towards the door. Without looking back the memory of Ben faded from the forefront of her mind and disappeared, locked away safely in the depths of her mind where she wouldn't have to face it again; face him again.  
  
Casting a glance back over her shoulder as she reached the doorway, Max committed the image of the man lying there to memory too. This time he wasn't her brother, not Ben. This time he was different, not held with the same sibling regard as the person she'd seen him as all that night. His features held nothing of her brother and for that she was almost grateful because she hated having to remember every single time she looked at him. She idly wondered if that was why they fought over everything, no matter how small.  
  
Without another sound, Max turned back to the door and felt her hand tighten around the brass knob. Opening it just enough she slipped through the frame to the other side and closed it quietly behind her. Not sparing her situation another thought as she walked through Alec's apartment, Max headed out on to the early morning streets of Seattle without looking back. 


End file.
